[-writing, technique-]
by Nancy Waldman
“…the successful use of metaphor is a matter of perceiving similarities.” ~ Poetics, Aristotle
Metaphors are magic. The right metaphor in the right place transforms a felt hat into a black rabbit, a silk scarf into a flower, solid reality into illusion. In magic, however, tricks can be spoiled if the magician allows the viewer to see the slight of hand being used.
The metaphor needs skillful handling if your reader isn’t going to notice you pulling it from your sleeve.
Metaphor is a type of analogy, a figure of speech, but it is also a common way of thinking that starts early in life; our brains, it seems, are made to use symbols of one thing standing in as another. Perhaps it arises out of human beings need to communicate even before vocabulary has sufficiently developed. For instance, a young toddler might say I want that “sock for my hand” to mean “mitten” if that word isn’t yet in her vocabulary.
As well, metaphors are commonly used to express what otherwise feels inexpressible—love, spirituality, passion, any strong emotion. In response to a tragedy people often use metaphors of hell, nightmares, storms, war (assuming the tragedy isn’t a war). When they are uplifted from the tragedy by kindness or compassion they speak of wombs, bridges, home, cradles. It is a natural way of thinking and expressing what “normal” speech doesn’t adequately cover.
Language is figurative because our brains have the capacity, the tendency, to make disparate connections. Using metaphor in creative writing is an essential part of communicating in a way that is specific, unique. A well-placed metaphor can layer levels of meaning, can bring characters to life, can resonate with the reader so fully that they never forget the connection you’ve made for them.
In the simplest form, metaphors state that one thing is another, as in Shakespeare’s, All the world’s a stage or Juliet is the sun.
Similes are often confused with metaphors. The difference is that in a simile we say that something is like something else whereas in a metaphor that thing IS something else. Here are two sentences that use figures of speech based on birds. Can you tell which is the metaphor and which is the simile?
Carl strutted around the room like a peacock.
Carl preened his feathers.
In the first—a simile—he is like a bird, in the second—a metaphor—he becomes the bird.
There are many examples that are said to be “dead metaphors” in terms of creative writing because they are so common that we don’t even notice them as being metaphorical. They are the magic equivalent of taking a coin from behind someone’s ear. We’ve all seen it; it’s no longer interesting and certainly not magical.
Everyday items:
the leg of the chair, the cradle of his arms, being on time is the default setting
Emotional expressions:
I hit the roof! I saw red. I fell in love.
Nature:
mother earth, the storm’s rage, the caress of the sun
It is instructive however, to look at these everyday metaphors because they show that metaphors do not have to follow the A is B formula. Metaphorical connections can be made not only with nouns but also with verbs, adverbs, adjectives and even prepositions. Also, the metaphor can be as simple as expressing a single similarity or as complex as the overarching concept that provides the direction and philosophy of an entire piece of writing.
Often the most effective metaphors are those in which the two things being compared are dissimilar in most respects. The skill comes from finding that one attribute that is so similar, that—as a writer—you can say: this is that, and mean it. The writer must not only believe it, but also be relatively certain that the reader will be able to pinpoint that one aspect of the two things are perfectly attuned. Just as a magician must set the audience up for an illusion, the writer must prepare an illusion so the reader naturally understands and believes.
If I say that Carl is a peanut butter cookie, I’d better have let the reader know ahead of time or soon, what characteristic of Carl I’m referring to. Crusty around the edges? Full of delicious goodness? Chunky? Or perhaps, having fork marks on his face? Your reader needs to know what you mean or your metaphor won’t serve your story.
If I say that “Carl swam through the room.” the reader might think “swimmer “or he might think “fish.” If you want to have the reader think “fish” you need to make it more specific and since there are all kinds of fish, why not make it very specific?
“Grey and sleek, Carl sliced through all the smaller fish in the room, beady eyes locked onto his prey.”—we are pretty darned sure that he’s a shark and he’s about to attack (probably a metaphorical attack). “Shark” has many associations. The writer needs to make certain that those won’t conflict with other things we know about Carl.
In this instance, “Carl darted in and out of the corners of the room, camouflaging himself behind the bright anemones and starfish.”—we get a very different picture of this character.
Remember, you are carefully, skillfully teasing out the similar in the dissimilar. Your metaphor must match what you are most trying to illustrate in that character, situation, or theme.
Bringing vividness to your writing is one of the greatest benefits of using effective metaphors. Suppose you’re telling a story about a man who has had a tense, terrible day and has an increasing number of reasons to believe that he might be in danger. The suspense has built to a high pitch. He’s trying to calm himself down but suddenly, as he’s preparing his supper in what he presumes to be an otherwise empty house, someone taps him on the shoulder.
You could say, “Carl jumped in the air.” This may be literal, but it’s dull and doesn’t express the depth of shock and fear that you want Carl to be feeling.
You could say, “Carl jumped out of his skin,” but that’s a cliched metaphor. Everyone will know what you mean, but it’s overused; it has no power.
How about using a fresh metaphor and one that matches the scene?
“Carl was a drop of water splashed on a hot skillet.”
In this, we see Carl jump, rather than being told about it. This is one of the wonderful aspects of using metaphors creatively. With few words, you can show the character, or the action. Your material comes alive.
What’s happening with the following two sentences?
“Carl wanted her to notice him, so he stealthily entered into the conversation and said exactly what he needed to in order to get her attention.”
“Carl waded into the conversation without creating a ripple. His opening line, cast gently and precisely, hooked her immediately.”
We get basically the same information, but the second has much more interest. We see Carl being stealthy, patient and skillful and the fisherman metaphor brings with it many other rich associations.
But would this metaphor work in any material? No, no, no. The metaphor has to resonate with the character, the setting, the tone of the writing. Otherwise, the reader becomes aware that you’re trying to create illusion instead of seeing—and believing—the illusion.
If Carl were a Wall Street workaholic who didn’t go outside except to go from office to car to home and back again, the fisherman metaphor would fail miserably. On the other hand, Carl doesn’t have to be a fisherman for this to work; in fact, it would likely be too strong a metaphor if he were because, in that context, the metaphor might not be fresh or unexpected. However, if Carl were on his first visit to a Caribbean island or perhaps had a summer job working in a boatyard, then this metaphor might not only fit the work and the character but extend his evolution by showing that he’d absorbed some of the setting he found himself in.
This brings us to the mixed metaphor. It’s the clumsiest trick of all with sometimes comical results. A mixed metaphor is sawing a rabbit in half or pulling a top hat from a silk scarf. It’s one that combines two or more totally different metaphors in close proximity.
“Carl held his cards close to his vest, but he couldn’t keep from wearing his heart on his sleeve.”
For one thing, those are cliched metaphors but more importantly, they are going off in two different directions. They may both be true of this character, but you need to find a one metaphor that can express both things.
“Carl held his cards close to his chest, but he still had an ace up his sleeve.”
This is equally cliche, but at least the metaphor is all about card playing.
Perfect metaphors will, from time-to-blessed-time, arise naturally out of the writing process. Our minds will effortlessly make the connection that resonates the most effectively. But—to say the least—that doesn’t always happen. During the editing process it is possible to analyze any writing that hasn’t come alive, that is more telling than showing, that seems less emotionally true than it needs to be, and look for metaphorical language that will enrich it.
This doesn’t mean that creative writing needs metaphors in every paragraph or even on each page. Every magician’s act prepares and distracts us from the tricks themselves. Moderation is the key.* Don’t force a metaphor and if in doubt, leave it out. That way when the well-placed metaphor appears as if out of nowhere, your audience will gasp.
Metaphor is a powerful reinforcement of the flexibility of language and the interconnectivity of that language within our brains. Our minds enjoy playing with the possibilities of turning the literal, abstract—the familiar, strange—the superficial, deep—the real, magical.
Metaphors do the trick.
*did you pick up on the dead metaphor? probably not. that’s why they’re referred to as “dead.” 
© 2007 Nancy S.M. Waldman all rights reserved
This article barely scratches the surface of a rich vein of metaphorical information. Keep digging!
Here’s a place to start: changingminds.org/techniques/language/metaphor/
The PCQ’s MetAphorism feature use metaphors to bring out lessons in creativity:
The Desktop Shortcut
The Road Map
Burma-Shave signs
The Costume Box
Example of the use of an overarching metaphor to make a point (over and over and over again 
): Growing Inspiration.
to the small percentage of left-sided creative brains out there. The good news is that those people don’t know they’re offended because most of us haven’t had our brains examined.
Well…that probably gets us off-track. Fully-mindful is too fully-mouthful. Whole-mind is used in other ways to teach reading and such. Non-dom, short for non-dominant? That’s a bit negative. Alternate-mind. Alternate-hemisphere? Alt-mind? That sounds like a keystroke shortcut. Oh, there you go: Alt-control! 
Hmmm. Alt-hemi? Demi-hemi? Semi-demi-hemi?
For now I will settle on C-mind—short for Creative Mind—until, unless, I can think of a better iconic term. 
